


To be Human

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, M/M, Rimming, Shepard is a destructive thinker, mShenko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard feels his resolve slipping. How can people like Kaidan Alenko keep their humanity whilst his washes away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be Human

It had been an unwritten rule for thousands of years, since man first picked up a weapon and went to war, that the aspects of being human, the basic needs, would come second to the fight. And even in the 22 nd century, surrounded by new species, distant worlds and technology too advanced for the simple-minded, the same rule applied.  
  
Glancing at himself in the mirror had become unfeasible most mornings. And so, his stubble had grown thicker, framing his jaw and covering the freckles on his chin. Showers were spent with his eyes shut, no longer able to glance down his body and count the marks the war had chalked up on his skin. Meals came in wrapped form, processed and tasteless – sitting like a brick in his stomach and sapping his energy. The coffee had made him gag in front of the crew once so he avoided it at all costs.  
  
Stepping into sleeper pods and allowing the machine to force him into a synthetic slumber, encased in the metallic coffin until the machine deemed him fit for another day or the pre-set timer ran out of numbers. Those were usually nights the bed in his cabin felt too big, cold and hard against his aching body.  
  
He was no longer organic. He was a machine. Fed, serviced, recharged and buffed out after a nasty dent planet-side. He was a machine of war, a weapon with a pair of legs under it in addition to the multiple firearm attachments, shields and biotic abilities. Now with melee combat functions. Pull the string on his back and he’d salute.  
  
A good 32% of him was synthetic, and he felt every last inch of it under his skin like another being. As if one day he’d wake up to find his cybernetic implants had revolted from his body during the night and had fled in a trail of blood and flesh, taking all of his hard-earned intel with them straight to The Illusive Man.  
  
But sometimes, even when surrounded by death, armour soaked through by acid and your own blood, the stench of guts so strong it makes your eyes sting, there can be a reprieve. Through the smeared mess on his visor, he could see the glowing form of his old friend dancing between bullets and Rachni vomit, face lost beneath his helmet.  
  
That man, regardless of loss and failure still  _appeared_ human and not just some vessel of calculus and strategy like himself. Kaidan chuckled at Vega’s jokes, sympathised with Cortez’s loss, hugged Liara when he returned to the Normandy, accepted EDI and her body wholeheartedly, smiled as Garrus pulled him into a headlock as a “welcome home” was knuckled into his skull. He’d showered before embracing Tali when she boarded the Normandy. He politely greeted Diana Allers with a hand shake and kept his eyes firmly above her chin. Samantha had been hesitant, but he had introduced himself to her like an old friend. And he’d been the one to bend down and enfold Joker in a manner of greeting, not letting the man strain towards him.  
  
He still retained what it was to be human. Shepard wanted to know how it was done, an instruction manual, training video, self-guide books – anything. How did he make it look so easy?  
  
He’d been through the same bullshit he had, from Saren to the Collectors and now the Reapers. Kaidan’s father was dead, did that mean nothing to the man? How could he keep smiling when he’d lost his flock of biotic spec ops students? How did he cope with his mother alone out there with Reapers breathing down her neck? Didn’t that crush his drive even a little?  
  
Did it make him feel cold and distant? Did it rape the joy of life from him leaving him hollow and unapproachable? Did everyone feel the way he did and knew how to hide it with the opposite emotions?  
  
Shepard realised Hackett hadn’t put him on the frontlines of the fleet because he was good at killing shit, but because he no longer cared about the implications of his decisions. He didn’t falter when the Citadel was under attack. It’d felt good firing straight into Udina’s cold, black heart. Aiming at Kaidan Alenko had been like reading a newspaper, enlightening yet completely underwhelming. The shift in his expression, knowing there were none to be read on his own, he could tell Kaidan was genuinely concerned he was going to kill him. Not likely, but he wouldn’t have regretted it if he had to.  
  
He couldn’t remember what regret even felt like - some distant ache at the back of his head probably, like overheating his biotic amp. He didn’t recall a lot of emotions, he simply took the back-lash of his decisions if and when they arrived. The whole Galaxy was going to be obliterated, it wasn’t a problem to him if a few people disagreed with his choices along the way, to hell with them.  
  
The Ardat-Yakshi had to die. He only stopped Samara from shooting out her Asari brains for the sake of war assets, a Justicar killing herself was just a waste. The Geth had to die. The bastards had been a pain in his ass from day one, had taken Ash from them and couldn’t be trusted with the Reaper upgrades. Good riddance they were gone. The Rachni too. No one mourned either.  
  
And any who did were probably Reapers and/or indoctrinated.  
  
Calculus and Strategy, that was all his mind was for now. Estimate the chances, the pros against the cons, the worth of the reward and how to get it. There wasn’t room for empathy or joy. Love was about as far from his mind as his plans for next year when there wasn’t one promised, and the chance of it just as grim as the war itself, there was no way.  
  
So, when Kaidan came to him one night with his head pounding and lips loose from whiskey, hoping for a midnight chat considering they were both suffering insomnia, he’d been surprised to hear his old Lieutenant’s lack of gusto.  
  
“These are dark days, Commander,” He whispered, his breath strong with the scent of liquor. “People are running, but there’s nowhere to hide. They can turn the other cheek and believe the war will never reach them, but it will. Everyone is a target and the Reapers won’t stop until everyone has been destroyed.”  
  
Shepard had stared, his face stoic and unmoved.  
  
“I-it’s times when people show such arrogance towards the Reapers that fucks me off! They can see what the Reapers are doing to Earth,  _have_ done to the Batarians and the… the  _things_ they’ve made of us, the foot soldiers that once upon a time used to be friends and family! It saps the faith, you know?”  
  
“I know,” Shepard confirmed. “Everyone wants a favour. And unfortunately, the pattern seems to be the same. A species will turn their noses up. And then the Reapers hit their Home world and the Species connected to it need their asses saved before they’ll offer any help of their own. And usually it’s too late to save many, if at all. If they simply rallied to the war in the first place, they’d be better prepared.”  
  
“Yeah!” Kaidan snapped. “Or, if they just  _believed_ you about the Reapers three years ago, we’d all be better off! The Asari are sitting on their asses, the Volus refuse to offer anything without a promised profit margin, the Hanar have already fucked themselves in the ass and the  _Salarians_ , fuck, don’t get me started on that shit.”  
  
Shepard had leant back into the sofa, eyes to the ceiling, listening to the Major go on and on beside him, slowly releasing everything he’d had in his system, all of his thoughts and concerns. And he listened to every last word. Nodding when he agreed, shrugging when he didn’t.  
  
The soft, whiskey husk voice, slurred and slowed by the alcohol in his system, lulled him into a relaxed state, he felt his guard sliding down into the sofa and when the Major reached over to grab the data pad beside Shepard, probably to prove something, he only opened his eyes to observe. He didn’t flinch, why should he in such company?  
  
But then something happened. He wouldn’t explain it any other way than it just being a  _something_ – especially to an officer he’d be reporting to. Kaidan caught him considering his position, outstretched across his lap, knee dug into the sofa. Shepard didn’t flinch then either, simply continued to observe the man strained over him as if it were some sleek new sniper rifle with maxed out ammo capacity clips, multiple shots, smoke sensory sights and cover penetrating upgrades.  
  
“… Commander?”  
  
Shepard sat there, face carefully stoic, but his fingers twitched. He felt like he needed a gun for this, something firm and solid and deadly in his hand to handle the weight of Kaidan’s question stinking up the room. He wanted to wrap his hand around something, the palm of his hand itching for contact with anything, he wasn’t sure just what yet.  
  
And Shepard craved it, whatever it was. Kaidan was on the move, slowly pulling back from being stretched over his lap, but he didn’t retreat far. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, either lie or confirm the Major’s suspicions. It wasn’t necessary. The older man leant closer, as if to observe every minute detail of his face, more specifically his lips, it seemed.  
  
A carnal, instinctual desire burst inside of him, as if the circuitry in his brain had sprayed sparks and embers all the way through his body. The fire ignited the second Alenko bit his lip, looking almost shy as he bumped his perfect nose against his rebuilt one. And like that, as if muscle memory was brushing off the dust and testing out old functions long gone rusty, he turned his head and slanted his lips across supple, moist ones.  
  
The pungent taste of whiskey hit the back of his throat and seared its way down into his stomach, but he ignored it because…  _fuck_ , he wasn’t sure what was happening, but he approved. Kaidan moaned into the kiss and slid onto Shepard’s lap, straddling with thighs either side of Shepard’s. He felt the body rock into him, thighs tightening around his, the breath against his lips stutter and break.  
  
“ _Shepard_ .”  
  
He watched as the man threw his head back and ground down against his lap harder, focusing the brunt of his ministrations wholly on something Shepard had forgotten functioned further than simply an organ to piss from. He observed the man biting his lip, the hands on his shoulders sliding up to claw at the back of his neck, fumble with his amp-port and then pull for leverage to slam his lips against Shepard’s again.  
  
He felt the back of his head collide with the glass display case behind him and opened his mouth, inviting the tongue to him again and swallowing the whiskey flavour invitingly as Kaidan continued to rock into his lap.  
  
“I,” The man shuddered bodily and sank his fingernails into the back of Shepard’s neck, adorning it with red lines and crescent moons. “I’m gonna come.”  
  
“Do it.” Shepard growled and slammed his hips up hard. Funny, he thought, he’d never put Kaidan down as someone who enjoyed frottage, but here was his proof. He watched the man writhe in his lap, arms swung around his neck, lips open against his and hair dishevelled from Shepard’s fingers.  
  
A bodily wave crashed into Shepard suddenly as Kaidan convulsed forward and sank his teeth into his neck, the controlled thrusts now jerky yet slow against his cock. He could hear cursing in his ear, his surname, his rank, a selection of religious entities but mostly his aborted breaths as he came into his briefs. He could feel the shot of warmth between them, Kaidan filling the supportive fabric of his underwear with sticky white heat and staining the front of his fatigues.  
  
“Shepard,  _Shepard_ !” Kaidan whispered into his throat. Shepard growled, tilting his head back and grabbing one of the man’s hands.  
  
“You started this,” He snapped as he pushed the flat of the palm he had control of against the straining mound in his pants. “Finish it.”  
  
Alenko sank down his body, slithering past his stomach and thighs and kicking the coffee table back to make room for his girth as Shepard accommodated between his thighs.  
  
It was an order, something he required – because yearning was too human of an emotion - but the feel of a very human need being met, a carnal urge no synthetic felt, to remember he was indeed human and still retained such desires, he felt  _alive._ He felt Alenko’s mouth around his cock, the pleasure racing through his system, the lust ladled thrill stabbing him in the back and making him convulse.  
  
The Major let him come down his throat and massaged his balls until he was sucked dry. He cleaned him with his hands and tongue, chuckling when Shepard refused to go flaccid and mentioned something about how much come he’d swallowed.  
  
Shepard had grabbed him then, shoved him down over the sofa and proceeded to open the man with his fingers and tongue. He knew what to do, he’d been human once, he remembered. Kaidan’s pants had filled the room, the twitches in his thighs hidden beneath the crumpled fabric of his fatigues telling him where he liked to be licked. The gasps from deep in his throat telling him where he wanted Shepard’s fingers most.  
  
Kaidan’s system was swimming in alcohol. It was clear he wasn’t all too aware of the situation anymore and had stopped trying to watch. It was such a human thing to do, to just bathe in the senses and give yourself up to the feelings taking hold of you. Kaidan was doing that, mewling and whispering sweet nothings in reaction to Shepard’s ministrations. Shepard wasn’t thinking about anything but what he could do next for the best result, to hear the breathless moans and hoarse cries of his name again. Victory at any cost.  
  
His broad palm stretched open the two plains of perfectly sculpted flesh, a perfection he’d always considered from afar, a silent appreciation of organic architecture that would never appeal to a synthetic.  _I am Human_ , Shepard hummed as he shoved the thick, wet muscle of his tongue past Kaidan’s tightness to tease around his fingers already in to the last knuckle.  
  
Alenko was whispering something, hips flexing and rolling and hands clutched tight into the leather as his ass swayed over his knees. It sounded pleasing enough to him, so he withdrew to hear it more clearly.  
  
“Been thinking about this,” Kaidan gasped and Shepard watched as he closed around the space his fingers had left empty inside him. “You’re a deadly distraction, Shepard.”  
  
“You have no idea.” He snapped. The sofa creaked and the leather groaned against the pads of his knee armour as he mounted his old Lieutenant, his Major, from behind. The regulation whore from the past was gone and all he was left with was… well…  
  
He preferred  _this_ Kaidan Alenko, he liked him. Synthetics  _don’t like_ .  _Because I am Human_ , he thought and he felt as he pushed Kaidan’s front down into the sofa and fucked him with gusto, driving and wrenching out one beautiful moan after another. He watched the spasms and shudders, the breaths forced from his lungs with every brutal thrust and he thought they were beautiful as if he were appreciating fine, classical music for the first time.  
  
“Shepard  _please-_ ”  
  
And that voice.  
  
Shepard growled.  
  
He was organic, he was  _Human_ . He breathed like a Human, ate, healed, hated and loved. He  _fucked_ like a Human. And he  _hurt_ like one too when Kaidan turned his head to the side and bit into the wrist of his hand holding his weight up over him.  
  
But he roared like a  _beast_ when Kaidan seized under him, his entire surroundings clamping shut and Alenko  _screamed_ around his flesh as Shepard convulsed right there with him, shooting his essence instead of a gun into a man with a warmth he wanted to bury his nose into instead of his omni-blade.  
  
And Kaidan sobbed in delight, basking in his afterglow even as Shepard slipped from his entrance and he sprawled out on his belly. Shepard had done that. Sure, Kaidan could’ve gone to town with his fingers or maybe even a phallic object, but it wouldn’t have been as good, and Shepard knew it was good, he’d been right there watching Kaidan’s eyes roll into the back of his head and his come smearing across the couch. He had the claw marks marred into the leather too.  
  
It took a while, but Kaidan finally drew up with a sway, his wrist brushing across his mouth to wipe away stray saliva and Shepard studied the way Alenko dutifully laced his uniform shut with a smirk on his face.  
  
“Been fun, Shepard,” He caught the tail end of Alenko’s statement. “You should do me again sometime. It’s- uh… It’s nice to reconnect with your humanity.”  
  
Shepard blinked and he knew his demeanour had relaxed from the pull in his lower back. He was slumping, his elbows braced on his knees, he was tired, but he agreed and Kaidan could see he’d struck a live one.  
  
“I’m right there with you, Commander.” The Major nodded. “You just gotta let me pull you to the surface for a breath once in a while, you know?”  
  
Shepard closed his eyes as an open palm travelled over his buzzed scalp, caressing once fleetingly as Kaidan climbed the stairs and a moment later, was gone.  
  
“I know,” He answered to the gentle hum of the drive core and the roiling bubbles of the aquarium. “Because Humans need to breathe.”  
  
 _Because I am still Human._


End file.
